


This Is Your Fairytale Ending

by coffeestainanalyst



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Crying, Dirty Talk, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Objectification, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Painplay, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Punishment, Service Submission, Sexual Roleplay, Sexual Slavery, Spanking, Sub Bucky Barnes, Top Steve Rogers, and Steve works very hard to make Bucky actually accept one, consensual consent play, mh what else
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-07 05:41:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4251522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeestainanalyst/pseuds/coffeestainanalyst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sure, they’d known the stories, long before they went abroad. Of wicked queens dancing to their death in red hot iron shoes, of big bad wolves cut open and filled with stones to drown. </p><p>But reality’s no fairy tale, and more often than not, there's a monster that gets away.</p><p>Or: Bucky has a hard time coming to terms with his verdict, and Steve helps him dream up a suitable fate for the Winter Soldier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. March, April

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hoosierbitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoosierbitch/gifts).



> For the Summer Lovin' 2015 Stucky D/s exchange as a gift for [hoosierbitch](http://hoosierbitch.tumblr.com). Hope you enjoy!
> 
> A million thanks to [eatingcroutons](http://eatingcroutons.tumblr.com) and [taydev](http://taydev.tumblr.com) for the last minute beta and cheerleading. You're amazing. <3 Obviously, all remaining errors are my own and if anything at all seems strange about this fic, it's probably because I insisted.

**March  
(there is no ivory tower)**

It’s Sunday morning and Bucky’s in the kitchen. Steve just _knows_ the moment he opens his eyes, broad smile creeping over his face.

Bucky’s been dropping in more and more this past year. They‘ve gradually gone from awkward staring contests – with Bucky never moving away from the nearest exit – to actual visits. They’re doing random things, really. Bucky helps Steve repair his motorcycle, complains about sports or politics, and sometimes he licks his lips just so and before Steve can blink, there’s a wet mouth on his throat and if he'd ever lasted a respectable amount of time with Bucky’s hands on him, he no longer does. 

Between visits, Bucky often disappears for days on end. Not a word from him until he’s suddenly back in Steve’s apartment like he’s never been gone, like it’s no big deal. Steve tells himself it isn’t, and yet he’s out of bed in the blink of an eye.

"Morning." Bucky sits at the kitchen table, looking at him over the top of the newspaper. "Coffee for you on the counter."

Steve grabs a mug. "You want one?"

"Nope."

Steve looks at Bucky’s plate. A glass of some sloshy protein drink sits next to something that seems hard enough to be a blunt weapon rather than a chunk of bread. "I see you’re having a feast again."

"And I see you have your GPS set on me." Bucky nods at Steve’s boxers, and only when Steve looks down does he notice his obvious morning wood jutting out in Bucky’s general direction. 

"Oh." Steve spills some coffee when he sets the cup down hastily. "Uh, sorry, I didn’t… I was on my way to the bathroom," he says and turns to go.

Bucky shrugs and opens his newspaper again. "In 15 feet, turn left," he murmurs.

 

**April  
(no fire, no justice, the witch is still alive)**

No matter how well-sealed the windows are, Steve still hears the rain. The city is gray with it, and it doesn’t look like it’s going to stop anytime soon. Bucky’s been gone for a while, and he’s not talkative when it comes to his life outside the parts that overlap with Steve’s.

It’s only by chance that they run into each other a few days later, both hauling sandbags for the local flood relief. 

"Can I stop by when I’m done?" Bucky asks. "Could use a shower."

Steve laughs. "Not wet enough yet?" 

Bucky quirks up his eyebrow. "So wet I’d have trouble peeling off these jeans on my own. Was kinda hoping for assistance. Captain."

"Oh," Steve says. 

He might be walking a little funny for the rest of the afternoon.

-

To no-one’s surprise, Bucky has exactly zero trouble getting rid of his wet clothes. 

And Steve’s.

The door isn’t even shut properly and he’s on his knees, tugging Steve’s fly open almost violently. Steve’s skin is clammy and so cold he almost doubles over with how hot Bucky’s mouth burns as he swallows him down – and down down _down_ with those throaty, greedy little grunts that drive Steve crazy. He lets his head bang against the wall with a silent scream and only just manages to warn Bucky when he’s close. Bucky moans around Steve’s cock and sucks harder, faster, and Steve grips Bucky’s hair so hard his knuckles turn white.

-

"Jesus Christ," Steve pants after, slumping down to the floor. "Can’t say you’re getting any more patient in your old age," he sighs, sprawling out bonelessly. "Not that I’m complaining."

Bucky shifts with him, working Steve’s softening cock over gently with quick licks. It’s always been a matter of pride for him to suck Steve dry to the last drop. He stills when Steve pats his hair. "C’mere." 

"Mh?" Bucky’s pupils are blown wide as he lets himself be drawn up till his face is level with Steve‘s. For a moment Steve thinks he’ll be allowed to capture Bucky’s flushed bottom lip between his teeth, worry it until it looks another shade pinker, but Bucky turns his head just as Steve leans in. Steve swallows his disappointment and tries not to think about _before_ , about when they spent entire evenings glued to each other’s lips. He shrugs it off. If it’s not what Bucky wants, they’re not doing it, it’s as easy as that.

His hand finds Bucky’s erection, beautifully slick with precome, and Bucky keens against his neck at the touch. "How d‘you want it?" Steve whispers, enjoying the eager little jerks of Bucky’s body into his firm grip. "Hand or mouth?"

Bucky sobs something into Steve’s ear, but he sounds so wrecked it takes Steve a moment to understand: stop. _Stop, stop, stop_.

Steve’s hand falls away in an instant. "Sorry, I’m sorry," he says. "What is it, Buck, you okay?"

Bucky scoots back to sit against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. For a few seconds, there’s nothing but Bucky’s labored breathing and the occasional grinding of his teeth. "Yeah," he says eventually. "Gotta shower."

He’s up before Steve can say another word.

-

Steve’s in the living room when Bucky emerges, wearing his earlier outfit of dark clothes, a cap and a sturdy knapsack. A wet trail marks his path. 

"I put some dry clothes in front of the bathroom door," Steve says, biting his tongue to stop himself from bombarding Bucky with unwanted questions. His terms. His pace.

"No use," Bucky says, gesturing outside. "Gonna get soaked again anyway."

"You’re not staying? It’s late."

"Nah, got business. See you 'round."

"Wait," Steve says. "Just a minute." He almost expects the room to be empty when he returns, but Bucky’s still there, half lit by the green-yellow light that pours in through the window. 

"Here, at least take these." He offers Bucky a pair of socks. "That was the worst, remember? Not a day of truly dry feet during the whole damn war."

Bucky stares at Steve’s outstretched hands. "Yeah," he murmurs. Steve sees his fingers twitch at his sides for a moment, then he reaches out and pockets the socks. "Later. Thanks."

Steve nods and steps aside. Never blocking the exit was one of the first things he learned when Bucky came back. Bucky doesn’t move though, keeps staring at the floor. "Hey, and sorry for… for earlier. I usually try to come off less pathetic."

Steve huffs, shakes his head vigorously. "You got things you don’t like, same as everybody. I just wanna know what I’ve done wrong so I won’t repeat it."

Bucky’s eyes flash up to his. "What? You’ve done nothing wrong."

"'Of course I have! I hurt you."

"Did I seem hurt, really?"

"I –" Steve throws his arms up in exasperation. "What do I know, Buck! You sure as hell didn’t look like I want people to look when I try to get them off."

Bucky frowns at him, looking deeply unhappy. "It felt good," he murmurs. "'Course it felt good."

Silence follows, and the seconds stretch on until Bucky eventually rubs his face with a groan. He turns to look out of the window. "You know what helped me most through the first months of this goddamn mess?"

Steve shakes his head.

"Thinking about the people who did this to me. About the gruesome fates they met. Dead. Burned beyond recognition. Locked away never to be seen again." Bucky’s arm creaks as he makes a fist. "I asked Natasha to tell me how Pierce got shot at least a dozen times. I imagined him choking on his own blood. Drowning on it."

He turns to Steve, lifting his chin up defiantly. "It was closest thing I got to peace."

Steve nods.

"I’m not a good man, Steve, and yet even I get that. Revenge. Closure."

"Come on, you idiot. You are the best –"

Bucky dismisses him with a wave of his hand. "The people I hurt, Steve. Their families. What do _they_ get?" He looks up at Steve’s confused frown. "They get to see that if you know the right people, you'll never have to face the consequences of your actions."

"Are you kidding me?" Steve asks. "This has nothing to do with me, or SHIELD, or anyone! You got acquitted because _you are not guilty_ , period."

"Yeah," Bucky says, voice stretched thin. "Sure as hell doesn’t feel that way though. Not to me. Not to my victims, either."

"HYDRA’s victims," Steve says.

Bucky shakes his head slowly. "I think about them a lot, you know? Too much of a coward to turn up at their doorstep and beg for forgiveness. Would just give them a heart attack anyway." He shrugs. "But the least I can do for them, for myself, is to use that second chance I got at life. Be useful. Do good."

Steve only just keeps himself from shaking him by the shoulders. "You do! You’re not doubting that, are you?"

Bucky’s smile gets more real at that. Tired and wrung out, but real. "I try. And okay, I’m not exactly breaking stones, but I’m working hard and I sure as hell don’t indulge, you know? No luxuries. No soft sheets or fancy food and all that. Gotta keep it basic."

"What," Steve asks lamely. "You’re saying – what exactly are you saying?"

"Nothing, just trying to explain why I can’t stick around as much as you’d like me to. As I’d like to. I mean, I’m always here if you need me, but movie nights or stargazing or lazy mornings and stuff, that’s just not on the table right now, okay?"

Steve stares at him. "No, not okay. Way not okay, Buck. Like, how far does that go? Is that why I never see you eat anything but leftovers or SHIELD’s disgusting nutrition shakes?" The furrows on Steve’s brows get deeper. "And when you’re not here, where do you stay? Tell me you got a room somewhere! Tell me you’re not sleeping out in the cold because you don’t _deserve_ better. Bucky, look at m-"

"What, like that’s such a big deal?" Bucky snaps. "We both slept on bedrolls for months on end, and I never once heard you complaining! And those shakes are designed specifically for me, for my fucked up nutritional needs." He snorts. "I hate that special treatment, but I still take them. I eat and I sleep because I’m of no use to anybody if I don’t, so for god‘s sake, go worry about someone else!"

"Bucky! I don’t wanna add fuel to the flames, but the people they sent you to kill are very much dead. And their families – I could wrap you in satin sheets and feed you chocolate cake, nobody would know!"

" _I_ ’d know! You have no idea what happens every time I slip up! How I feel. The nightmares I get. I know it’s just in my head, Steve, but that doesn’t make it any less real!"

Steve’s about to argue when he suddenly stops dead. "Wait," he says, eyes growing wide. "Was that – sucking me off, was that part of your punishment routine, too?" 

He jumps as Bucky grabs his hands. "No," Bucky says earnestly. "No, that was me being weak. That was me craving touch, and testing how far I could go without feeling horrible after." His thumb circles Steve’s palm. "C’mon Steve. Mind-blowing sex with Captain fucking America is definitely on the No-Go list. If that’s not indulgent I don’t know what is. But sometimes I just… I needed to feel you, I was going crazy. I wouldn’t lie about this, you know I wouldn’t."

Steve searches Bucky’s face. "Okay," he says eventually. "So – do you? Feel horrible, I mean."

Bucky smiles drily. "Nope. Or at least, not because of that. Seems I can get away with almost anything as long as I can trick myself into believing I’m doing it for you. Give you something nice, make you feel good. And hey, if it happens to be nice for me too, whatever. But once you’re done there’s really no reason to keep going."

 Steve raises an eyebrow, but he can’t help sounding hopeful. "So I make you come first?"

Bucky laughs. "I like the way you think, punk. But nah, I’m afraid it’s not that easy."

"Shame."

"I’ll work it out eventually, okay? Hey, I know I’m being stupid, but right now it’s the only thing that works, so I gotta go from there." He suddenly breaks into a laugh. "Sweet Jesus, and I thought that pout looked funny on you when you where half that size."

Steve swats his arm. "I was just gonna say I’m with you, whatever you need. Doesn’t mean I have to like it."

Bucky’s mouth splits into a crooked grin. "I knew it." He leans forward and plants a quick kiss on Steve’s lips. "See you. Don’t save the world without me."

Steve shakes his head slowly. "Hey," he calls after Bucky. "I’ll need your help Wednesday evening. 6 o’clock. Don’t be late!" 

He tries to catch a glimpse of Bucky through the window, but he must have gone the other way. Steve watches people run for cover until the thick wall of rain hides the street from view.

Bucky’s definitely right about one thing: this is a goddamn mess.


	2. May

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! A million thanks to [taydev](http://taydev.tumblr.com), whose cheerleading and beta-ing made this happen at all. As always, all remaining mistakes are my own.

**May  
(and the wolves are gnawing at their own flesh)**

Steve’s 6’2’’, a good 220 pounds, and he can stop a speeding truck if he plants himself square in front of it. He has never asked for assistance more often than he does now, and he never minded less.

Of course, Bucky’s not stupid. He turns Steve down when his pretenses to keep Bucky around get too flimsy, so Steve spends the entire month more or less exploring his opportunities. Bucky tags along, even though he comments drily on the fact that Steve always digs up someone who urgently needs indoor repairs whenever the weather’s especially gruesome. 

Bucky’s all hoodie and cap, never looking at people much, but he never backs out either. Ops are a definite yes, too. Sport, maybe. "Join us for a morning run," is mostly a no, "I need someone to spar with who doesn’t break a bone when I land a hit" is mostly a yes. 

Publicity work; definitely not.

It’s one of the first sunny days of the year, everything seems to have erupted into bloom overnight, and Steve has to spend all afternoon shaking hands and smiling for the cameras. It’s for a good cause, so Steve soldiers through, but when he slumps down on his couch afterwards he feels like he’s been through a meat grinder. At least Bucky’s paying a visit. 

Even though he looks about as exhausted as Steve feels, there’s a hint of mischief in his eyes. "Saw you on tv," he says. "Well, parts of it. They’re still playing that monumental tune every time you’re on screen. Full orchestra, very epic."

Steve groans, but Bucky flashes him a smug grin. "Dunno, kinda worked on me. I’m feeling the huge need for you to sign my –" Steve almost sweeps him off the couch with a well placed pillow punch. Bucky laughs under his breath and even allows Steve to lean in for a quick kiss. "Glad to see your jaw still works," he says, "Was worried it might’ve turned to stone from all the professional thousand-watt smiling."

Steve grimaces and nips Bucky’s lip for good measure. "You laugh, but there are more knots in my neck from marathon style posing than I ever get from fighting." He reaches back to dig his fingers in. "Augh." 

A predatory expression creeps over Bucky’s face; lips parted just enough to show teeth, eyes dark and intent. "Thought so, that’s why I’m here," he says and before Steve can blink, he’s on his belly, Bucky straddling his hips. Steve moans as Bucky digs his fingers in exactly where it hurts. "Oh god, yes."

Bucky laughs softly, and if that’s not a sound Steve could listen to all day he doesn’t know what. _More_ , Steve thinks, and then he stops thinking because Bucky works him over with that metal hand and Steve comes apart. 

"I feel like a noodle," he slurs eventually, long after all the knots are massaged out of his muscles, and Bucky’s taken to mouthing Steve’s neck and rubbing his stubble against flushed skin. When Bucky’s done licking a wet line from his shoulder to his ear, Steve shifts around to face him, maybe push his luck for another kiss. The drag of his dick against Bucky’s thigh makes him realize how hard he is.

Bucky knows, he always knows, and he looks damn pleased with himself. He studies Steve’s face, and slowly shifts his weight. Steve can’t help the guttural sound that escapes him.

Bucky hums lowly, traces Steve’s collarbone. "You deserve a treat," he says. "How about you let me help you relax?" He rolls his hips leisurely and the waves of pleasure radiating from Steve’s groin make it hard to speak. Steve can only hope the next moan that melts out of his chest is affirmation enough. 

Seems it is, and for once Bucky takes it slow. "Arms at your sides," he tells Steve. "Close your eyes."

Steve gets lost in gentle touches and wandering hands, both of them still fully clothed. It's sweet and almost chaste, if it wasn’t for Bucky’s hands slipping underneath Steve’s shirt occasionally to make Steve see stars with a flick of thumb over his nipples.

"Tell me when you’re close," Bucky says eventually and Steve exhales deeply, eyes blinking open. "Now," he whispers. "Now and five minutes ago and fifteen minutes ago." He chuckles, too content to even be embarrassed. "It’s perfect though. You’re perfect." 

Bucky’s lips twist into a genuine smile. To Steve’s utter delight, he seems unusually soft around the edges tonight. He traces Steve’s jawline with his thumb, and Steve leans in.

"If I could, you know what I’d do?" Bucky asks under his breath. "Mh. I’d ride you. Get you all drowsy and boneless like you are now and then sink down on you in slow-motion, let you do me all night."

Steve risks gently kneading Bucky’s thighs, working from just above his knees all the way up to where a hitched breath warns him to stop. "Why don’t you?" he asks.

Bucky looks away. Between unkempt strands of hair, his ears turn a deep shade of red. He shrugs. "You know why."

Steve doesn’t, not really. He tries, but it’s not like he fully gets the parameters of Bucky’s no pleasure policy when he’s in his senses, and to say he’s momentarily distracted would be an understatement.

"If it’s about that, you can file it under 'Nice things I did for Steve'," he hurries to assure Bucky. "One hundred percent. No, one thousand percent."

Bucky rolls his eyes. "Jesus, Steve, you really gonna make me say it?" He sighs. "Come on, don’t you remember how I get every time you fuck me? I’m into it way too much, I – I couldn’t hold back. There. How do you expect me to make myself believe I’m doing it for you if I shoot off before you’re even all the way in?"

Steve’s cock strains against his pants at the thought. "Bucky –"

"I’ll blow you," Bucky interrupts, already halfway down Steve’s legs, smug grin back on his face as if someone flipped a switch. Steve grabs him by the shoulders.

"Wait! Where’s the problem? You know what it does to me to see you come! Good for my ego, too."

Bucky doesn’t move out of Steve’s grip, but Steve feels a sudden pressure between his legs where Bucky’s metal hand palms his cock. All air goes out of him as Bucky starts rubbing. " _Ah_. Mh, good." 

The metal’s smooth but solid, it doesn’t give in the slightest and even through the fabric, it’s intense. 

"To compensate your ego," Bucky says, "I dreamt of your dick the other night. Well, all of you, obviously. Can’t help it, happens sometimes. It’s mostly about you pulling my pants down and playing around with me, commenting on how long it’s been and how I’ve become too tight to take you. You let me bite your forearm when you fuck me anyway, shove it in to the hilt and pound me so hard even the neighbors’ neighbors hear me."

Steve curses, hips eagerly pushing up against the flat of Bucky’s hand. 

Bucky laughs. "You know I got a thing about you making me really feel it. I howled and moaned and came all over the floor, and you pushed my face down into it while you filled me up good."

Steve yelps, trying to shift his hips, but Bucky doesn’t let up. He flicks his thumb over the exact same spot again and again and it’s too intense, it’s too, it’s _too_ – Steve’s whole body spasms, twisting up and up and up. Bucky strokes him through it. 

Steve’s still trembling with the aftershocks when he feels Bucky’s hands on his hips, pulling his sticky pants down to expose hyper-sensitive flesh. Bucky’s lips are chapped and rough and impossibly gentle. Steve peers down to see Bucky’s tongue lap at white streaked skin, cleaning him off carefully. 

Steve exhales with a low sound and reaches for Bucky’s head. "Hey, you don’t need to," he whispers, but Bucky tightens his grip on Steve’s flank.

"Please." He sounds so raw that Steve lets him proceed, threading his fingers through Bucky’s hair all the while.

-

"You’re so good to me," Steve says afterwards, because he means it and because if Bucky admits it or not, he soaks up praise like a sponge nowadays.

Bucky plants one last kiss on Steve’s hipbone before he sits up, smiling a little. For a moment, he looks like he’s between saying something or dismissing it. "I’ve been thinking," he starts eventually. "For a while now, about how to make this work for both of us. What you said earlier, how I should pretend I’m doing it for you… it won’t be that easy, but I think there’s potential there."

Bucky leans back, licks his lips. "Do you remember the games we used to play? Summer of ’40… ’41? When I spent almost every night kneeling at your feet? Or – or that time you tied me to the bed for a whole weekend and had your way with me whenever you felt like it?"

Steve’s eyes widen. "Bucky –"

"Just saying," Bucky cuts in quickly, "If I was your plaything and you wanted to stick it in, then of course you could."

Steve’s hands clench around Bucky’s arms harder than he means to. "Don’t say that! Nobody gets to order you around anymore, certainly not me!"

Bucky frowns. "Correct me if I’m wrong, my memory isn’t the best nowadays," he says icily, "But I’m pretty sure you liked it as much as I did."   
"Yeah," Steve admits, "Sure! But back then, it wasn’t… it wasn’t real! And I was young and dumb and playing with concepts I didn’t fully understand."

"What, and now you do?" Bucky asks, eyebrow raised. "You know what it’s like to be truly owned by someone? To be treated like a goddamn _thing_ for real?" Bucky snorts. "Nope Steve, you have no idea. I do, and trust me: It’s nothing like the games we used to play."

Bucky’s sets his jaw and glares at him, and Steve doesn’t know what to say. "Okay," he manages. "You’re right I’m – fuck, I’m sorry."

"Hey, we don’t have to do it if you don’t want to," Bucky says, a little softer. "No problem. But don’t tell me we can’t because of me, 'cause that’s not true."

The thought of watching Bucky struggle against ungiving restraints still makes Steve’s stomach sink, but he sees Bucky’s point. If they’d really – well, it wouldn’t be the first time they’d have to improvise. "Right, yeah." 

Bucky nods, angled away from Steve and looking like he deeply regrets ever starting this conversation. Steve leans forward and plants a soft kiss between his shoulder blades. "It was the summer of ’40 _and_ ’41. And the only reason we didn’t do it in ’42 was because you didn’t get any leave."

"Ah." Bucky smiles sadly. After a while: "Don’t you ever miss it?"

Steve rests his head on Bucky’s shoulder. "Dunno. Maybe. Still kinda good at jerking off to things I can’t have. And for a long time there was nobody I wanted to sleep with anyway, certainly no one I trusted enough to tap out if they needed to."

"I would," Bucky says and Steve nods.

"I know."

-

Once the decision is made, it doesn’t take long till they start spinning a story.

"I want you to give me no choice," Bucky says. "I wanna pretend that for some reason I have to."

"Well, there’s always pirates" Steve offers and Bucky snorts, shaking his head with a fond expression. "You and your goddamn pirates, Rogers, I swear to god."

It’s a nice spring day, and they’ve made camp where the morning sun paints patterns on the living room carpet. Bucky gets surprisingly calm and relaxed whenever they’re planning their game. Not exactly cuddly, but close enough that Steve can lie down next to him and steal a kiss now and then. Steve starts thinking that if the real thing does Bucky half as good as the daydreaming, they might be on the right track after all.

Seizing the rare opportunity, Steve nuzzles Bucky’s throat. They’ve done this before, back in the day; thought up scenarios inspired by movies and books and their own hormone-fueled fantasies. This time though, Bucky insists they’re keeping it as close to the truth as possible. 

"Say after Project Insight, what’s left of SHIELD gets their hands on the Winter Soldier, and they give him to you a gift," he muses. "They’re really hot on getting back in your good graces, and besides, is there a better way for someone to make amends than by helping Captain America fight the good fight?" He flashes Steve a lopsided grin.

"So I swear tooth and bone that I want to prove my loyalty, and they got the arm rigged anyway," he continues. "Better than wasting a perfectly capable fighter’s skills in some holding cell a million miles underground, right?"

Steve hums in agreement.

"At least that’s the official take" Bucky says. "Unofficially, you’ve got these… these dark urges, you know? Stuff that’d make the press go wild. And lately you’ve been less and less careful, even though SHIELD doesn’t have the resources to clean up after you anymore. Bet they’d be all over themselves to look away if there was a chance you’d act it out behind closed doors instead."

Bucky nods, obviously pleased with himself. "That’s perfect actually, because you wouldn’t even need to overpower me or anything. You ever seen where they’re keeping their… guests? ’s not like I could say no."

Steve glances over. If Bucky truly believes SHIELD would sell him out like that, he doesn’t seem troubled by it. Or at least, not surprised. 

Steve plays with the soft hair on Bucky’s neck. "Doesn’t that hit a bit close to home?" he asks. "I mean sure, I can do it, as long as I get to choose what kind of dubious dark urges I’m supposed to have. But don’t you want something that’s more… obviously fake?" 

Bucky shakes his head. "That’s the whole point," he says. "It’s gotta be believable. Won’t work otherwise."

Steve nods thoughtfully.

"Besides," Bucky adds, "If you’re playing yourself – just a kinda darker version – we should be fine. No offense buddy, but your acting sucks."

Steve bites the next best part of Bucky he can reach, which is his ear. Bucky yelps. 

"Are you kidding me?" Steve asks. "I used to do an absolutely stellar job! Not my fault you never met a real mafia enforcer intimately! Or a pirate, for that matter. But that aside – me keeping my ex-antagonists as sex slaves, that’s in character, just _kinda_ darker? Wow, thanks buddy," he snorts, nibbling at Bucky’s earlobe in mock offense.

Bucky grimaces and tries to wriggle out of Steve’s hug. "Stop it! Jeez, I’m not doubting Captain America’s moral high ground! I’m just saying that it’d be a lie between two truths. Or are you tellin’ me that if you could, you wouldn’t be all over me 24/7?"

Steve lets Bucky’s earlobe plop out of his mouth with a slightly embarrassed grunt. 

Bucky wipes his ear on his shoulder. "Yeah." He sinks back with a sigh. "But honestly, I like the idea," he says. "Protecting you by day and kneeling at your feet at night. A blank canvas for you to mark, again and again, forever after. Seems like a proper fairytale ending, doesn’t it? For villains, that is."

Steve bites his tongue and keeps silent. Instead, he brings his forehead to rest against Bucky’s temple. Bucky smiles a little and rubs his scruffy cheek against Steve’s. 

"I’ll be out of town for a week, expect radio silence. Soon as I’m back, we’re giving this a test run. Usual rules, okay?"

"Yeah. Sure you don’t want me to tag along?"

"I’m good. Just be ready when I’m back."

Steve nods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it only took me two chapters to get to the part I wanted to write in the first place. Pfft. ;)  
> Anyway, final chapter shouldn't take months again, but I better not promise anything I can't keep. If you like crying over sad little cyborgs, join me on [tumblr](http://coffeestainanalyst.tumblr.com).


End file.
